And So it Begins
by Clzh and Clzh-x
Summary: In the land of Rune Midgard, a young group of adventurers begins an adventure in the world surrounding their homes. The pieces are almost all in place, but the mystery behind them has not even begun to be unraveled.
1. Prologue

The small creature bounced forward, its sights set firmly on the item glinting in the sunlight in front of it. It was a fairly long object, but it was _shiny_. Its semisolid body quivered in excitement, and it scooted forward. It paused, and then leapt forward.

Before it could make it to the _shiny_, a large foot caught its face in midair, and then propelled it against a tree.

"Oh no you don't, you nasty little slime ball! That's _my_ sword!!"

The _Poporing _squealed in annoyance. It wanted the _SHINY!!_

It bounced angrily toward the tall person, who had plucked the _shiny_ from the ground. It paused and sucked in its breath, and the scooted forward with such determination that it seemed that the _poporing_ had transformed. It leapt, and discovered that, not only was the _shiny _pretty, it was also _SHARP! _The _poporing_ once more flew backwards, only to spring forth again.

And so it continued, the _poporing _would rush forward, leap high, impale itself, fly back, and repeat. Its adversary, a teenager with thick dark-chocolate hair, sighed, and planted the hilt of his weapon, a cheap rapier, in the marsh ground, and sat behind it, watching the _Poporing _impale itself again and again, until it finally went splat for the final time.

Wiping the green sludge from his face, the teenaged swordsman stood up, and cleaned his rapier with the grass. He brushed his knees off, turned around, and walked away.

The green sludge quivered, and then slowly stretched, assimilating all the other pieces of scattered slime. Soon, the _Poporing_ was back to its jiggly old self. It turned around in a whole circle. Aw… the _shiny_ was gone… Hey, wait!

**_ROUND!_** That thing was **_ROUND!!_ **And _shiny_! It scurried off toward the odd crystallization that glinted in the filtered forest light.

The swordsman watched it go, and the chuckled to himself. Annoying little things, but harmless. He grinned happily, and began to walk in the general direction of the Mountain Village, Payon. He entered the desert, pausing once to draw a ring with a skull encrusted upon it. He read the small inscription on the inner circle, laughed, and placed it back in its pouch.

He shook his head, and continued on.


	2. Confidence

"No, Kullea! That's not how it's done! The Tornado Kick is done with a _spin_, not a _stab_! Get up, and do it again!"

A teenage girl, perhaps 14 or 15 years of age, picked herself up off the dirty stone floor of the dojo in which she lived as a student of Tae Kwon Do. She brushed her long auburn hair over her shoulder, and assumed her strange stance. She stood on the balls of her feet, her left foot pivoting away from her body. She paused, waiting for some hidden or secret signal.

Suddenly, she twitched, and all the tension she had accumulated in the small amount of time allowed her to execute a perfect spin. The wooden targets that had surrounded her were completely demolished, and their fragments flew away from the force of the kick.

"Excellent job, Kullea! You can get yourself a drink now."

"Thank you, teacher," Kullea gasped. She stumbled over to the fountain, and took several gulps of water. The liquid trickled down her throat, easing the dryness away. She sighed in relief, and looked up through the trees of Payon.

The martial arts dojo was unique in the fact that it was open-air. The only area that could qualify really as "indoors" was the long hall that stretched itself around the grounds. The practice area in the center was entirely exposed to the elements, which were generally favorable. In the northeastern corner, there was a circular fountain that drew its water from a geyser deep beneath the ground.

Kullea looked across the dojo grounds, watching other students practicing their techniques against each other. The light filtering through the trees that stretched over the grounds gave unearthly shades and hues to their skin and uniform. She looked down at her uniform, focusing on the belt around her waist.

It was a unique knot. The belt was rather long, so first, she had to draw it around her stomach, and then loop it around so that the two ends returned to the front. From there, they were tied in a thick knot. The girls had to master the ability to tie that knot quickly, for it kept their jackets from becoming loose, thus saving themselves from embarrassing incident. The cooler of her particular belt was black. But, it was just black; not even 1st dan.

Among her fellow students, she was very highly-ranked. Yet, she was still just a student. The teachers were all 4th dan or higher.

Kullea blinked, and looked up to see Phoenix approaching her. She smiled; Phoenix was a very good friend of hers, and the person who had brought her here when she was little. Her favorite mentor waved at her, smiling warmly. She waved back self-consciously; she would never tell anyone, but she had a bit of a crush on him.

"How ya been, kiddo?" Phoenix asked with a grin.

"Fine, I guess…" she answered, shrugging nonchalantly.

"What kind of an answer is that?" Phoenix laughed. "Didn't I tell you? You should…"

"'…Always have confidence, for without it, you have nothing'. I _know_, Phoenix. It's just…"

"Just… what?"

"Oh, I don't know! I know the techniques, I know the forms! I've just… hit a stumbling block; the instructors won't allow me to test for 1st dan, even! I just don't know why…"

Phoenix paused for a moment, and looked at her thoughtfully. After a few minutes, he looked up towards the sky. The clouds floated lazily overhead, as if they had no cares in the world. He smiled softly, and turned to face her.

"I have an idea…"

Kullea looked up at him suddenly. "You'll test me?!"

"No."

The girl's face fell.

"This is something better."

She blinked, and looked up at the man in front of her. His charismatic smile unnerved her slightly. What could he have thought up?

"Back when I was your age," Phoenix began, "I hit a stumbling block around the same time you did. I was ready to test, but I wasn't allowed to. It turned out that you couldn't test for 1st dan the same way you tested for the colored belts."

"Then how?"

"You had to undergo Mission Journey."

"…Mission Journey?"

"Yes. Mission Journey is when a student sets out on his own. He travels around Rune-Midgard for a certain length of time, and when he returns, he is tested by the elders of the dojo, and then attains a certain level of dan, anywhere between one and three."

Kullea blinked. "But, they don't do that anymore, do they? I've never heard of Mission Journey before."

"The dojo's elders decided to prohibit it, because there was no set limit to when one was allowed to go. Some students waited until they had achieved the black belt, others weren't so patient. Some left far too early, and they weren't ready for the outside world. They… never came back."

Phoenix paused, and his eyes became distant. He sighed, and shook his head. Turning back to Kullea, he adopted a small smile.

"However, I believe _you_ are ready for such a test."

"Really?"

"Yes. Meet me tomorrow at dawn, in front of the dojo. You have until then to get ready."

And, before she had a chance to speak, Phoenix left her at the edge of the fountain.

Kullea arrived at the entrance to the dojo, a few minutes before the first rays of the sun peaked over the surrounding mountains. It was dark, but comfortably so.

She adjusted her uniform, straightening her belt so that it fit comfortably around her waist. She shook her head; she needed to stop being so nervous! _Confidence, confidence_…

"Hey."

She spun around, and placed the ball of her foot against the figures neck too quickly to follow.

"Yo! Calm down; it's just me," Phoenix said, laughing.

Kullea realized her blunder, and pulled her leg down, muttering a quick apology. Phoenix laughed warmly.

"It's alright. You're nervous, that's okay."

Her mentor held out a knapsack. She looked at it questioningly.

"Take it. It has supplies for a few days, and some money for once you get into town. There are also a variety of potions. The monsters around here aren't all that friendly. Stay away from the _Greatest Generals_, they pack a nasty punch, and… I'm under the impression that I'm doing all the worrying for you."

They both laughed, and Kullea accepted the knapsack.

"Thank you, Phoenix. This means a lot to me."

"I know, just… take care, all right?"

"I will."

They paused, and then gave each other a brief, but strong, hug. They drew apart, and Kullea stepped back a few feet.

Suddenly, a chorus of loud voices rose from the dojo grounds.

"See you, Kullea!"

"We'll miss you!"

"Come back soon!"

The students and their instructors had all gathered to say their goodbyes to their favorite friend and student. With tears in her eyes, Kullea waved back. Without another word, she turned around and disappeared high into the trees.

Phoenix chuckled. Yes, indeed. She was most definitely the one.


	3. Sheilkin

Lost. Completely and utterly _lost_.

What the heck happened?! She'd left the dojo not ten minutes ago! And now she had NO CLUE where she was!

"Okay. Okay… Calm down, silly girl. All you need to do is find Payon. Village in the mountains. Shouldn't be too hard…"

"Oh, you'd be surprised," a voice noted from the surrounding foliage. Kullea paled, and looked around wildly.

"Okay… I'm talking to a disembodied voice. I'm _officially_ insane."

"Hey! I have a body! And pretty dang nice one, too, if I do say so myself!"

Kullea blinked. "Would you mind _showing yourself_, then? I'd feel more comfortable if I could see you."

"That depends."

There.

The direction the voice was coming from had changed, but the person had not revealed himself. Which meant that either she fighting an Assassin or a Rogue. Although, at this altitude, the clarity of voice with which her associate spoke suggested the former.

"Depends on what?"

"If you can survive my assault for a full minute, we can talk. How's that sound?"

Oh… boy.

She leapt to the side as the noise of something moving through the air _very quickly_ approached her. The martial artist wasn't able to pause to see what she was running from, as she leapt away from more projectiles. She flew upwards, planted her feet against the trunk of a solid tree, and soared away. She ascended the branches of the trees, and a lull in the assault allowed her to see what exactly she had been running from.

Small metal blades pierced the wood of the branches where she had stood. There were two primary designs in the projectiles. Small, star-shaped blades were predominant, while every once in a while there was a spiked dagger that would be sticking out of the tree bark.

"The stars are called _shuriken_, and the daggers are _kunai_," whispered her assailant.

Kullea yelped in surprise, and then fell to all fours, kicking out at her opponent's legs. Or, at least, the airspace in which they had existed half a second before. Kullea rose to a fighting stance before taking flight again to dodge more thrown weapons. Was it just her, or were the shuriken getting _bigger?_

Kullea flew from branch to branch, dodging shuriken and their larger versions (which she learned were called _Huuma Shuriken_). It wasn't so much a difficulty to dodge the incoming projectiles as it was to figure out how to outwit her aggressor.

Finding a safe spot to land, Kullea waited for her assailant to send a new volley. It never came.

"You're _good_," came the voice, filled with admiration, and perhaps a slight jealousy and envy.

"Thank you," Kullea smiled. "Now then, would you please come out?"

"Of course."

A blur rushed across her vision, coming to a stop directly behind her. Kullea spun around and planted her foot against the harasser's throat, forcing him against a tree.

"Now then, I hope you have a way to repay me for _ripping my UNIFORM_!" Kullea roared, flourishing the tattered sleeves of her only outfit. Her foot pressed against the throat of the… wait a second.

"You're a _girl?_" Kullea wondered aloud.

"Yes… please, I can't breathe… choking… _not breathing notbreathing notbreathingnotbreathingnobreathenobreathe…!!_"

Kullea withdrew her foot, allowing the female (who looked to be no older than _her_) to catch her breath. However, before she had a chance to fully recover, Kullea secured her against the trunk of the tree by forcing her foot into her stomach.

"Now then… who are you?"

The girl grinned.

"Sheilneiar Burakin, although my friends know me as 'Sheilkin'."

"Job Affiliation?"

"Ninja."

Ninja? Well, that would explain a few things, such as why she didn't use the katars of the Assassin class.

"Age?"

"I turn sixteen tomorrow."

"I feel so… _happy _for you."

There was a slight lull in the interrogation in which Kullea wondered where to take it from there.

"Dare I ask _why_ you where such a skimpy outfit?"

"Because I can," the Ninja giggled. Kullea blinked. She slowly withdrew her foot from the Ninja's gut.

"Oh, that's right! I ripped your uniform! We need to fix that," Sheilneiar noted. A wild grin.

"Do you have any cash? 2,000 Zeni would be enough to fix it."

Sheilneiar snorted derisively. "2 Kay? You kidding?"

"Is it too much?"

The Ninja rolled her eyes. "Are you _nuts_?" she laughed. "I have a better idea."

Kullea blinked again as the Ninja grabbed her arm forcefully, and began to lead her through the forest, leaping from branch to branch.

"Where're we going?" Kullea asked worriedly.

"Payon!"

"Why?"

"I'm gonna take you _shopping_!"

"Shopping? What's that?" Kullea had never been out of her dojo. Her uniform had been handmade when she was old enough to begin training. Every time she needed a new one, the materials of her old uniform would be added to those of her new one.

" We're going to buy you a _bunch_ of new clothes!

"I don't need new clothes, Sheilneiar!! I just want my current one _fixed!_"

"Don't worry about it, girl! We'll get it all nice and tidy again, too! And for the last time, call me _Sheilkin_!!"


	4. His Majesty

"_All around the mulberry bush… the monkey chased the weasel…"_

A man trudged through the silent desert, his loose, dark clothing flapping silently in the wind. A strange hat rested atop his head, with a wide brim and dark band. His tarnished silver hair, unkempt and wild, flew backwards, slave to no one. His unshaven face looked down, frozen in a perpetual scowl.

He hiked across the vast wasteland, his hands in his pockets, singing faintly to himself. The sunset painted the barren land crimson and violet, transforming it into a majestic fresco that stretched beyond the horizon. The stranger in this beautiful wilderness paused suddenly, and turned slowly.

Not twenty feet away a pack of wolves had gathered. Each proudly bore a number of scars and marks that testified to their power, will, and ferocity. Dirty, brown, and hungry, the beasts snarled in a low voice, and it seemed that this came just as natural as breathing did to them. Among them, there were several cubs that looked even more ferocious and hungry than the adults.

But none came close to the grandeur of the leader.

Easily two or three times the size of the others, the leader's fur shone blood red against the desert dusk. Its pelt was unshorn and rough. Its yellow eyes held a danger that culminated ferocity, hunger, and wisdom. The fangs of the monster, stained red with the blood of a thousand hunts, gleamed sinisterly in the odd light. Its claws pressed down on the sand, and the wolf's haunches tensed. The creature stared evenly at the man, a strange lust emanating from it.

The stranger looked at the beast, and then turned away disinterestedly, still continuing to sing softly to himself.

The younger wolves instantly charged headlong toward the stranger. They leapt into the air, howling and roaring…

And fell backwards dead, a multitude of holes in their bodies. Their blood seeped into the sand, and would be swallowed entirely by midnight, lost to the infinite vastness of the desert.

The stranger blew the small line of smoke from the muzzle of his pistol, admiring the strange glint of the reflection of the desert sun across the engraved word _Ginji_. Holstering the weapon, the stranger turned back to the Beast. He smiled knowingly, and turned away.

"Better luck next time, then."

And as he walked away, the stranger resumed his song… which sailed over the desert in a haunting melody.

"_Pop goes the weasel…_"

"Hey, Barkeep! Check this out!"

The _Desert Lantern_ had never been much of a classy bar, its major patrons being primarily Thieves and the offshoots thereof, along with a couple of Gunslingers who held jobs part-time as bouncers (meaning whenever they themselves weren't inebriated beyond all reason). Every once in a while, an Alchemist or a Blacksmith would poke his head in, and then immediately draw it back out, due to the natural repellant that the unwashed patrons each exuded in quantities that could easily cause a Grand Peco to keel over. Dead.

The bartender, a teenaged mage named Kingril (although he was known as "King" to the patrons… or more often just as "Barkeep"), looked up from polishing the glass in his hands to see one of the younger Thieves getting knocked across the room by the woman Gunslinger he had just tried to grope. Rolling his eyes, he went back to polishing his glass. Really, this happened so often that he was tempted to paint a bull's-eye on the wall for her to smash him against.

He looked up at the one patron that was neither a Thief nor a Gunslinger and smiled tiredly. The young Merchant smiled back shyly, and went back to the drink she had been having. She had just set the empty glass back down when a smooth dark liquid began to fill it again. She looked up in mild surprise at Kingril, who generously replenished her drink before winking at her and mouthing "_On the house._"

She smiled again, and went back to drinking. She sipped it slowly, humming in pleasure as the slight layer of froth excited her tongue.

There was a slight lull in motion, and Kingril took an opportunity to study the young woman before him. The polishing of the glass in his hands slowed yet did not stop.

She had hair of a golden-brown hue that fell in small, overlapping strands to her jaw line. Past that, in front of her shoulders, the hair curled inwards slightly, framing her face. The rest of it reached her shoulders and continued down the length of her back, bound into loose braids that then interlinked into a larger braid that reached the small of her back. Her eyes were an energetic green, although having been in Morroc for a week or so this quality had dimmed slightly. Her nose and mouth were small, which led to the illusion that her eyes were overlarge. However, it was not considered an ugly quality. She wore a typical Merchant's uniform, nothing really interesting there, except for the small brooch in the shape of a jagged green circle with a variety of runes engraved in it. Her family's crest, perhaps. It was more common to find Merchants with family crests then Knights nowadays. The large satchel that seemed to make most female Merchants look pregnant was draped lazily in her cart, which was made with plain cast iron.

"…Does zat happen often?"

"I'm sorry?" Kingril broke away from his trance.

"Ze incident with the Thief and ze Gunslinger. Does zat happen often?"

"Yes. He's developing quite a tolerance to widespread physical pain, so some of the other patrons are betting on which day exactly she'll switch to actual bullets."

"…_Really_?" the Merchant asked in a hushed voice. Kingril smiled the accent.

"You betcha!" drawled a new voice. Kingril looked up and scowled.

"Go back to groping the other drunks, Jante. Leave this one be."

The Thief grinned maliciously.

"And leave this cute little girl all alone with you? How could you suggest that I leave her to the whimsical powers of such a …"

Jante didn't finish. Kingril had pressed the tip of his wooden staff (which he always kept underneath the bar) to the Thief's throat. A small blue light had begun to emanate from the tip.

"Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence."

Jante gulped visibly and nodded. When the staff was withdrawn he sat down shakily. A few minutes afterward he chuckled to himself.

Kingril rolled his eyes.

"This is Jante, our local troublemaker. Don't let his good looks fool you, he's got his hands in –or _on_- everything that he doesn't happen to own."

The Merchant nodded slowly, looking at the Thief through the corner of her eye.

"So…" Jante drawled loudly. "You must be that _special_ woman Kingril hides from the rest of us…. _ITAI!_"

Kingril replaced his staff underneath the table, ignoring Jante's rude curse words as the Thief favored the new bump on his head. The Mage rolled his eyes. He turned back to the Merchant.

"How long will you be staying here, Miss… uh…"

"Bijou Lumière."

Kingril nodded. "Miss Bijou, then."

"About a day more, I guess. I just got a delivery I'd been waiting for, so…"

Kingril held up his hand to stop her. He looked at Jante, who had gone very still.

"Scoot. Three stools. _Now._" Jante did as he was told.

"Gotta watch yourself here, Miss. Especially around _him_. That big mouth isn't just for show."

"I heard that."

"Then stop complaining," another new voice whispered. This one was soft and low, like a cold breeze from the mountains. Jante paled as he felt the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against his neck.

"Hello, Ginji," Kingril said with a sigh. The Gunslinger nodded, removing his hat and placing it on the counter as he sat down on a stool.

"The usual?" prompted the Bartender.

"Double strength."

"Had another run-in with _His Majesty_, I see."

"Ayup."

"Heez… _Majesty_? King Tristan was _here_?!" wondered a very surprised Bijou.

"No." Jante shook his head. "There is a massive wolf in the desert. About three times the size of most Desert wolves, which are big enough on their own, this creatures chooses only to hunt the strong, as decided by itself. It can assume Alpha Male status with a flick of its tail when it decides to create a pack of his own; this is done by collecting the most ferocious and powerful wolves from other packs. It essentially takes this "elite" pack and chases down those who it deems strong enough for a good hunt."

"There have only been four who have seen His Highness and lived," Kingril said in a small voice. "Ginji here was one of those four; he's had the most encounters. Jante, although his very nature seems to contradict the fact, has also survived a few encounters. I've seen the Beast twice… and there was one more, although he only saw the beast once and hasn't been himself seen around in a few years."

"That would be Ralor," Ginji chuckled darkly.

"Ray-lore?" Bijou asked politely.

"Yeah. He's stronger than I am. His skill with the sword is on a much higher level than my skill with these guns."

Bijou blinked surprisedly. "Then, why hasn't zis Ray-lore seen HeezMajesty that much?"

"Well, for one thing, His Highness only appears to a few people. Those would be the ones he deems worthy to fight him. In a twisted way, it's a sign of respect. However, the twist itself is that often, most of the people he shows himself to have no chance of fighting back. And these are full grown men I'm talking about. We're just a couple of teens that happened to do a bit of traveling through the desert. The natural laws seem to contradict it, once again, but we still survived. Ralor only happened to travel through the desert once. That was the only time he was with us. He disappeared afterwards."

Bijou nodded thoughtfully, drinking yet another refill "On the House".

"Monsieur."

Kingril sighed as he got up to open his front door. It was pre-dawn, and the light was very dim. He could barely make out the form of the young woman he had met last night.

"…Bijou?" he asked, yawning.

"Oui."

"Do you want something?"

"Well, today eez ze day I set off, no?"

"Yeah…" Kingril would never tell anyone this, but he would miss the girl. The one bit of sanity in his job was now leaving. Shame, that.

"And yesterday, I realized zat ze world eez filled wiv magnificent creatures zat I have never heard of."

"Okay." Where was she going with this?

"And I was wondering… I am headed to Payon to peddle my wares. Would you be willing to escort me through ze desert?"

"You need an escort?"

"Just een case."

"Fine." He needed a break from the Desert Lantern, anyway. And most of Morroc, too, for that matter.

"Great! Would you please meet me at ze eastern edge of town?"

And without another word, Bijou sped off. Kingril blinked in mild confusion.

Odd girl, that one.


	5. Catherine the Mighty

When Kingril had signed up for "escort duty", it was safe to say that he was expecting to be the only one. It was, after all, pre-dawn and he was half-asleep. So it came as a big surprise when he met Bijou that there were also Ginji and Jante. The Thief was in the middle of a violent hangover, thanks to his intense drunkenness last night. He wasn't legally allowed to get any alcohol, but since when did Morroc care about things like teenagers getting drunk? Ginji was in far better shape. Kingril had learned from the Gunslinger that whenever a drink from someone else was accepted, always have a powerful, all-purpose antidote. Besides, he didn't get drunk all that easily. He had some form of immunity.

The only person who didn't seem to have something to complain about was Bijou, herself.

"_Bonjour_!" the Merchant giggled, seeing the Mage's odd expression. She walked quickly up to him with a smile.

"I hope you don't mind," she spoke softly, her face sobering. "I asked the other two along, too. I…"

"It's no problem," Kingril said with a smile. "I'm only having trouble imagining how you got both Ginji and Jante here… well, maybe not Jante."

The French-Albertan Merchant giggled again. "_Merci_! Thank you for coming." She smiled and kissed his cheek. Kingril was fairly sure that his face was now three or so shades redder than before.

"N-no problem." He stuttered.

Bijou stood in the center of the group, and everyone watched her carefully.

"I wish to thank you all for coming," she began. Kingril smiled to himself as she delicately massacred her "th"s. "I know you all have some bad blood between you, but I hope that you could put it aside for now."

Ginji rolled his eyes. With Jante around, she would need a little more than mere hope.

"What's your weapon?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your weapon. I want to know if you can defend yourself."

Bijou paused, considering, and then she shrugged. From the folds of her uniform (which had a stupefying amount of hidden pockets), she drew out two thin packages and a lager, bulky one. She tossed the two small packages into the air. They unraveled, releasing a number of small metal shafts, which she almost instantaneously connected into a much larger metal staff of about six feet in length. She tossed the bulky package into the air and stabbed it with the staff. A wind began to blow, peeling off the weak wrappings of the package, revealing a massive sledgehammer. She twirled it deftly about her body, and then suddenly interrupted the path of the weapon, leaving it at Jante's neck. After the moment settled in, she withdrew it and let the mallet rest against the ground.

"This is my mother's hammer," Bijou explained. "It is made of pure Oridecon, so don't think it can be broken easily. It weighs 1000 pounds in total."

"No way that thing is half a ton if _you_ can lift it," Jante challenged.

"Here, try it," Bijou smiled sweetly, lobbing it at him. Jante grabbed the staff, and then felt himself lifted off the ground. He flew backwards through the air for five seconds, and then skidded along the rough sand for a grand total of thirty yards. The overwhelming weight of the hammer compressed his chest, making it impossible to get up.

Bijou's face remained calm during the whole incident. She walked over to Jante's body, and lightly tapped the hammer with her foot. The mallet fell off, and then she stomped on the staff, propelling it into the air, twirling. The staff separated into its smaller pieces, which Bijou caught and rewrapped. The massive head was plucked off the ground and rewrapped. Instantly, the three packages disappeared into the pockets of her uniform.

Bijou smiled, and, except for Jante writhing a few feet away, acted as if nothing had happened.

"…If you can do that, why do you need us?" Ginji asked, coolly.

"Because, while it is an effective weapon, there is always the chance that I may be caught unawares by some monster or ruffian who I missed. This is why I need your assistance."

"That, and you really want to see His Majesty, don't you?" Kingril realized. Bijou's eyes widened, and her face turned bright red. So that was why she got _all three_ of them together.

"You…" Kingril chuckled. "Shy or not, you know how to manipulate your chances, don't you? If you haven't seen the King in the desert yet, I doubt that our presence will change that."

Bijou didn't answer. She suddenly found her shoes interesting beyond all else.

Jante snorted. The effect was like a chain reaction. Soon Ginji was chuckling and Kingril was laughing hard. Bijou hung her head shamefacedly, and turned away.

"…Where're you going?"

Bijou froze. Kingril walked over to her, smiling.

"We said we'd escort you, so we will. I'm only guessing about His Majesty; maybe he'll show. I don't know how he thinks."

Bijou looked at the Mage, an indescribable look transforming her face. Kingril smiled softly at her in return.

"Come on. Let's go," he whispered. Bijou's face broke into an ecstatic smile, and embraced the bartender warmly. Kingril tensed, but then the moment was over.

Jante let out a catcall from several feet away, and the Merchant and the Mage stared at him, annoyed.

"May I hit him again?" Bijou asked silently, rummaging for her mallet.

"Nah," Kingril said. He held out his left hand into the air, and slowly the wind picked up. It seemed to gravitate to his outstretched palm, into a whirling vortex of compressed air. A strange light emanated it, and it took a moment for Bijou to realize that she had just witnessed the formation of a fireball up close. She looked up at Kingril's face, and saw a decidedly feline smirk stretch across his face. "I got it."

Jante howled in anguish and horror as he leapt away from the orb of flame. As the sphere made contact with the exact point where he had been, the compressed air suddenly released, and rivers of flame shot out in every direction. The Thief leapt out of the way of the flaming streams, and glared at Kingril. Bijou giggled at his expression.

"Okay, before we let this get out of hand," Ginji interjected, "I suggest we start going. We've drawn a crowd."

He was right; a small group of onlookers had joined them, watching in interest. Mostly veterans of intense battles, their only reason for being there was to see how well the younger ones who got into the fights could improvise. The youngest Novices came to watch the battles between combatants of a 1st Class Job for ideas.

"Alright!" Ginji roared. "Show's over. Go on home; nothing to see here."

Slowly, the crowd dispersed, and the Novices went off to giggle to themselves about their favorite Class and what they would do once they achieved it. When the mass of people had left, the group of four headed toward the eastern gate.

"Um, excuse me…" a small voice spoke.

Kingril turned and saw a young woman, another teenager their age.

"Yes?"

"Um… I know this may sound awkward, but, can I ask you where you're going?"

Ginji paused and shrugged.

"Payon."

"Well, uh, could I come with you?"

Jante looked her up and down. Ginji smacked him on the back of his head before the comment about to be spoken was.

"Why?"

"I… I'm broke, to tell the truth," she sighed. "I have no money, no food, very few arrows…" Here, the Archer indicated the close to empty quiver that was strapped to her back.

"And I need to see someone in Payon, really badly."

Kingril, Ginji, and Jante looked at each other. The Mage was about to say "No", when he felt a tug on the outer mantle of his robes. He turned and saw Bijou looking at him imploringly.

"Please?" she asked the Magician. "We could always use another fighter. And besides, the boy-to-girl ratio is too off-balance."

Kingril looked at the Archer again and then back at Bijou. He was still undecided. Knowing this, Bijou unleashed her secret weapon: the Puppy Pout.

Kingril wondered if they taught Merchants the Puppy Pout in school. Bijou was _way_ too good at it.

"I swear, Kingril," Ginji muttered. "That woman has you wrapped around her little finger, for crying out loud…!"

"Thank you, Kingril," Bijou said with a smile. The Mage rolled his eyes, and looked over at Jante, who had remained oddly silent the whole time.

"You okay, man?"

"Yeah, I'm fine…"

"You liar." The Thief grinned wickedly.

Bijou sighed, and turned to the newest member of their party.

"Okay, Catherine. Those arrows are free."

"Are you sure? I mean, I could repay you if you give me some time, I promise!"

"No need! We're friends, no? Friends don't need to keep score."

Catherine blushed deeply. She began to twiddle with her long, dark lavender hair.

"Don't worry," Kingril chuckled. "Bijou's right. Welcome to the gang."

Catherine timidly shook his outstretched hand. Kingril looked to the front of the group, and his eyes squinted.

"Desert Wolves, 8 o'clock."

Ginji looked forward, and grinned. "Finally, some action!!"

The Gunslinger swung the giant cylinder that was hung across his back down to his waist. He used his left hand to secure it and his right hand to get the crankshaft that unfolded from the chasse.

"Come and get some," he chuckled darkly.

Kingril drew his Staff, smiling as the jewels glinted brightly in the sunlight. Jante drew out from nowhere his Stilleto. He flipped it into the air, and snatched it by the handle. Bijou summoned her Hammer from its wrappings, and they waited.

The Desert Wolves soon noticed the party. Howling and snarling, they charged forward, leaping into the air. The drool from their fangs flew back from their fanged muzzles. Hands tightened on their weapons, and waited for the opportune moment.

Suddenly, the twanging of a bowstring filled the air with its rhythm. Each Wolf fell backwards, pierced twice with arrows, once in the heart, and once between the eyes. The instant each wolf ran toward them, they were each brought down. Hard.

"_Double Strafe_."

The group of four turned slowly to look at Catherine, who slowly stood up from her kneeling position. She slung her bow behind her.

"Shall we continue?" she asked, walking forward. Bijou hung her own Hammer over her shoulder, and jogged over to the Archer, and the two girls began conversing and giggling. The boys simply stared at them. They looked at one another, and then back at the girls.

"Hey!! WAIT FOR US!!!" Jante roared.


	6. The Prince of the Desert Wolves

_She needed to move quickly. Time was running short. _It_ was coming._

Kingril looked around. Something was… different about the desert. It looked the same, but there was just… something.

_Faster. Faster!_

He froze and then relaxed as Catherine approached him.

"You feel it, too." A statement, not a question.

Kingril nodded silently, staring out into the intense darkness of the desert night. His staff rested beside him as the last embers of the fire began to subside. He looked over at the other members of their party. Jante was curled up against a rock, close to the fire. Ginji was the farthest away, using his jacket as a makeshift blanket. Bijou was dozing gently beside him, an expression of calm on her face. They had traveled for almost a month. This was the first time this sensation had occurred.

"Something's coming."

**No. It couldn't come. Not right now.** _It had to. Time was up._ **Fortune was not providing for it.**

"Not just one. There're two… no, three… things. And I know one. Somehow…"

Catherine looked at the Mage with an unreadable expression. Unbeknownst to either of them, Bijou was aware of this; and she was _not_ happy.

_Now was the time! It could be delayed no longer!!_

Kingril bolted upwards at the sound of a deep and melodic note reverberated through the air. Wait… that wasn't a… There was no way that could be…

"A wolf's howl…" Ginji murmured. "And not an ordinary one either, by the looks of it." Kingril followed his gaze. There, just tangible in the darkness, dozens of wolves were racing towards the source, the origin.

"Shall we follow?" asked Jante, assuming a position that suggested calmness to the untrained eye, but Kingril knew better. The Thief was fond of the Wolves. For some reason, the earliest thing he remembered was being told he was brought into town by the Wolves. He would often go into the desert and play with them. He instinctively knew, however, that Wolves that attacked him… his survival came first. There was a mutual sort of understanding.

"I suggest we go. Wolves are rarely this motivated to gather. Bijou…?"

But the Merchant was already moving. Her cart was surprisingly mobile in the sand, and her face held a set determination. Kingril winced at the coldness of her silence. Without any further ado, the group moved steadily, but quickly forward.

**NO!!!** _It could not be helped!!!_

Kingril and Catherine started to run. They had to move faster! _Time had run out._

"Hey!" Jante called, but the Magician and the Archer didn't stop. If anything, they moved faster. The remaining three started to run themselves; Bijou's expression grew grimmer, and Ginji and Jante were last to catch up with their group at the summit of a large dune. Upon reaching the apex of the sand mountain, the stared in wonder and awe.

**No…** _I'm sorry…_

Hundreds, no, _thousands_ of Wolves had gathered in the center of this ring of Dune Mountains. And mountains they were! They were easily several thousand feet tall, but they sloped gently to hide the fact. In the center of the ring, there was a large White Wolf, and…

"His Majety," Kingril breathed.

Indeed, the colossal beast was within the center of ring, and it stood over the White Wolf as it grunted and thrashed. It made soft crooning noises to the beautiful creature, but this only calmed it slightly. The Wolf's back arched, and it let out a resonant howl. Kingril looked closely and saw what was happening. But he wasn't the one who said it aloud.

"Mon Dieu! She's having a baby!" Bijou gasped. Instantly she was running toward the heart of the massive gathering. Kingril flew after her, attempting to stop her, and soon the entire party was chasing after her. Again.

The Desert Wolves were _not_ happy that these **mere** humans had interrupted their ritual. The ones closest to them immediately turned and leapt upon them.

"Get OUT of my WAY!!" Bijou roared, and with deadly ferocity, sent them flying with her Hammer. She charged forward, sweeping the massive hunk of Oridecon to clear the path. She actually swung it in a full circle to clear her path, and in her frenzy, she failed to notice a Desert Wolf until it had leapt upon her.

She stood there, stock still, and all time seemed to have stopped. The beast's muzzle was frozen in an ugly snarl, but… so was the rest of him.

"Frost Diver," a voice whispered in the Merchant's ear, and she turned to see Kingril. His face was set, and he turned to look at her slowly. She had seen him slightly annoyed before, and even angry, that one time in the Desert Lantern. But this… this was his rage. This was not blind rage that men fell into and hurt others with. This was a dead calm, his eyes held no emotion. There was only a strict determination. He… he scared her.

"Well? You got us into this. Are you going to get us out?"

Bijou looked at him, and she felt _something_. Something that made her slightly happy, and yet, slightly anxious. She got to her knees, and then stood up.

The Wolves had ceased moving, and presented her with a clear path to the center. She and her comrades walked slowly forward, and soon they were in the center.

And then Bijou remembered why she had come here in the first place. She tore off her jacket, ripped it into rags, and tossed them to Kingril.

"Soak those in hot water! Now!" she ordered.

"And how am I…?!"

"You're a Magician, aren't you?! Think of something!!! You, Jante! And you too, Ginji! Hold her down! The more she thrashes, the more it'll hurt! Catherine, you help me out here!"

The King stared at the proceedings silently, watching and waiting. He watched Kingril mix his spells, intertwining his Cold and Fire Bolts into a stream of water. He levitated them in midair, placing the rags in the water, and then drawing them out. He brought them toward the White Wolf, and administered them as he was directed. Bijou turned on the King, her emotions making her tongue slip in and out of her native language.

"YOU! You are ze father of zisbébé, no? Well, you calm your mate down!"

The Beast blinked in surprise. Kingril froze. Jante froze. Ginji froze.

The White Wolf howled again, and then the moment was lost. Everyone went to work. Even the Beast King himself began to soothe his mate, by making an odd crooning noise to her. The gathered Wolves watched silently…

…It was done.

The dark cub was small, its fur slick and slightly greasy. Bijou gently moved it toward the mother's forepaws, placing it down reverently before her. The White Wolf immediately began to lick the substance from her child. It looked up once and its eyes gleamed gratefully at Bijou. Bijou smiled, and stepped back respectfully.

"Aw, that's so sweet," a soft, velvety voice chuckled. Kingril tensed, and looked around quickly. He didn't see anything. Ginji and Jante had drawn their weapons, and Catherine strung her bow quickly. Bijou's Hammer was already out.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt anyone." Slowly, a strange silhouette materialized from the dark night. A Stalker.

The woman smiled enticingly at Kingril, and walked over to the White Wolf. She knelt down to get a closer look at the cub.

"Interesting…" she mused to herself, an insidious smile playing upon her lips. She reached out to touch the dusky fur of the cub. She halted when Jante's dagger pierced the ground between her and the juvenile Wolf. She looked up.

Jante had transformed. Not physically, but his expression was not that of the Thief that was infamous for treachery and drunkenness. This was someone… stronger, someone truer, someone… real.

"Leave now. Do not touch the cub, do not even look back. This is a private ceremony."

The Stalker raised an eyebrow. She stood up and sashayed over to the young man. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and stroked it softly.

"Oh really?" she smiled, her voice layered with a hypnotic tone.

"Yes," Catherine answered coolly. Her bow was drawn, and the tip of the arrow was aimed at the Stalker's throat. The woman looked down the arrow length, unperturbed.

"Sorry, but I'm not convinced."

"Well, then, we can fix that."

Instantly, Kingril, Ginji, and Bijou had their weapons ready and aimed. The Desert Wolves had begun to growl, and the King's voice had become a steady rumble, and the growl sounded as if it were breathing.

The Stalker smiled again.

"Well, it's a shame, but I can't really do much here, now can I?"

She paused for a moment, and then she was gone. Disappeared into the night.

There was silence. For a few minutes. For an hour. Kingril lost count. Kingril didn't care. Bijou was in his arms. He didn't know why. His robes were damp. She had been crying. Why? Why was she crying? He didn't know. He held her tightly, whispering strange words of an ancient language into her ear. He didn't know the real translation, only that his mother had used it when he was a toddler.

It worked.

When Bijou stopped crying, she looked at Kingril. He looked at her. He smiled. She leant her head against his chest.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"What for?"

"For being so… such a…" she was unable to finish. Reason being that she kissed him. She withdrew after a moment, and neither of them moved.

The White Wolf watched them for a second. She turned to view the others. Ginji was staring out into the darkness. He checked his pistol. Checked it again. He moved on to his shotgun. Jante was beside His Majesty, staring at the moon. There was a faraway look in his eye. And Catherine…

Catherine had never been lonelier, or more out of touch. She was fighting for something on her own instinct. She didn't know these people, didn't know them. She was traveling with total strangers.

The White Wolf stood up, grabbed her cub by the scruff of his neck with her teeth, and walked over to the Archer. Catherine looked up in surprise. The White creature motioned towards her, and placed the infant at her feet. The girl looked down in wonder, and then looked back.

She picked up the babe, and held it to her chest. The tears in her eyes fell down, landing on the forehead of the precious creature. The cub stirred, its black fur seeming to glow in the darkness. It opened large eyes, looking directly at Catherine. It paused. And then it looked to the sky.

The desert echoed with the howl of the cub. The painted sands shifted, their colors taking on an unearthly glow, and then reverted back to their normal state.

The White Wolf looked at Catherine. Catherine looked at the White Wolf. The Archer walked forward, and placed her free hand on the shoulder of the magnificent beast, and the Wolf placed her muzzle on Catherine's opposite shoulder.

The King of all Wolves looked on quietly. Its face remained impassive; Wolves have very few expressions aside from anger and calm. Jante looked at the cub's father.

"I see that smile, ya big lug."


	7. The Caravan

It moved forward unsteadily, but determinedly. Its arms were raised, its fingers making grasping motions. A low moan rasped from its throat and it continued to surge forward. Its prey was here, and they would soon be…

The Zombie pulled itself off of the ground and resumed its forward death march, sans his left arm. Its targets, a Swordsman and an Acolyte, were waiting. With another quick swipe and kick, the zombie had no means of raising itself off the ground, now that it was missing _both_ arms. It moaned in displeasure, and made weak lunging movements to both sides.

"Now then," the Swordsman began. "Elisia, I think its time to send the soul home."

"Yes, sir, you're right," the Acolyte agreed. She placed her mace off to the side, and opened her Bible. She raised her hand, and it began to give off a soothing white light. The light enveloped the undead being and his legs began to disintegrate, becoming nothing more than dust. The waist soon followed, and then the torso and neck. The severed arms also collapsed into powder. As the head disappeared, for a brief moment, an expression of serenity crossed it, and then the face was gone.

Elisia always liked using the method of Healing the undead; their internal peace overpowered the agony of the lost souls, and they finally died in peace. She fell to her knees and prayed for the dead creature.

Ralor offered up a small prayer of his own, and crossed himself. He helped Elisia off the ground.

"Whaddaya say we head topside for a while? I could use some lunch. My treat?"

"Yes, that would be nice. Thank you, sir."

"Don't call me that."

The Swordsman nodded, and they both exited the tunnel. The bright sunshine of the Payon sky blinded them for a few moments, after spending hours in the dim light of the Payon Caves. Ralor waved to the others around him, a few other Swordsman, but mostly Archers and Tae Kwons from an assortment of dojos. He looked at one of the trees to his left, and grinned.

"Hey, Elisia?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Don't call me that. My name is Ralor. I want you to call me 'Ralor', okay?"

"Um, okay, si- uh, Ralor."

"Better. Now then, do you see that tree off to the side? There, behind the odd-looking rock."

Elisia looked in the direction the brunette Swordsman was pointing.

"Yes. What about it?"

"Notice anything different?"

Elisia looked harder. She couldn't find anything of interest, however. It looked like every other tree, except for a few leaves that had assumed their autumnal colors early. Oh…

"Yep. That tree signals the start of Autumn around here. Most people could care less, but those of us who have any experience in the matter head to the nearby Gate."

"Why?"

"Because this is when the Merchant Caravan comes through! Come on!"

And with that, the Swordsman and the Acolyte jogged southward to get passed the mountain in which the Caves were located. Once they cleared the massive rock, they immediately made a mad dash for the Western Gate.

"Here, get up on a table," Ralor suggested, puling Elisia up with him. He then leapt from table to table, with Elisia following. The Acolyte had a little trouble tagging along, since her robes were not made for leaping.

Ralor clambered up to a rooftop, and hoisted his friend upwards alongside him. Once again, they began to run for the Gate.

"Why do we have to go so fast?!"

"Because, we want to get there first!"

"Why?"

"You'll see!"

Soon, the odd couple reached the vicinity of the gate. The brunette waved high to the guards, who smiled and cheered in return.

"Go on up, Ralor!" one called.

"The Horn's all ready!"

"Cool!" the teenager grinned. He reached the top quickly, and waited for Elisia to join him.

"I thought…" she panted heavily, gulping for air. "I thought we… we were gonna get lunch?"

"We will, you'll see. But first, look!"

Catherine followed his gaze. All she saw was a few miles of trees, and then many more miles of the desert.

"All I see… see are a few black spots. Are they Wolves?"

"No…" Ralor chuckled. "Look again."

The desert sands shone white, and hurt her eyes, but a quick rub fixed that. The black spots were growing longer, becoming a long line. Elisia craned her head for a better look, and staggered backwards at what she saw.

A _massive_ line of individual black dots slowly moved towards them. Tens of Hundreds of Merchants were moving toward them, each with a cart, although some of the larger groups carried covered wagons with them. The line itself wound through the dunes like a huge black snake. Every once in a while, there would be a small black spot off to the side.

"Those are their guards. Merchants sometimes bring them because they're not used to traveling through the desert, or perhaps they like the company."

"Why do they wind through the dunes? Wouldn't it be easier to go in a straight line?"

"Sure," the Swordsman laughed. "If they didn't mind the intense heat of the desert, they probably would stay out of the shade from the dunes."

"Oh." Elisia blushed.

"Now then, watch this!" Ralor plucked a tube wound in a strange ovular shape, with a massive bell at one end, and a small one at the other. He placed the small end to his lips.

A single musical note emanated from the bell, the clarion tone carrying over the hills. Elisia sighed as she was witness to the sudden image of surf breaking against the shore. When the note ended, the image disappeared as well.

"The Herald Tide," Ralor quoted. "It's a traditional song that signals the beginning of a massive event, such as the Merchant Advent. When the Normans gather in such large numbers, this is a special song that is played. It was written by a High Wizard, and is the theme of water. It can be played on any instrument in existence. Each instrument has a different effect that can control water. If, for example, an entire orchestra were to play, the conductor would just about be able to control all the water in the world."

"What does it have to do with the Merchant Advent, though?"

"The Merchants arrive in a river. Check out how they wind through the dunes. It's not just for the shade. They've been doing this for centuries. The note just completes the ceremony. Now then, start looking."

Ralor ran forward, and hoisted himself over the wall, to the slightly lower level of the deck. He placed his hand over his eyes, and scanned the incoming river of men.

"Oh, where is she…? AHA! Come on!"

The Swordsman leapt down from the deck and charged toward the line.

"More running?" Elisia groaned. She pondered whether or not to go down the ladder, when she just decided to screw it.

"Waah!" She wailed as she leapt over the edge of the gate. There was a horrid sickly moment when she hung, suspended in midair. And then she plunged downward.

"Gotcha."

Elisia looked up to find herself in her companion's arms. She smiled, and got to her feet.

"Thanks."

"No prob. Now then, you want lunch?"

"Yes."

Ralor smiled, and pointed over his shoulder. "We're looking for a blonde Merchant with braids."

Elisia looked over his shoulder and pointed.

"You mean her?"

Ralor blinked. "You gotta be kidding me."

Indeed, there was the French Albertan Merchant, but it wasn't she who caught his eye. Ralor stormed over to the group surrounding her and smacked a Thief with dark red hair in wild spikes.

"Jante!! Good to see ya, man!"

"Ouch…" moaned the Thief.

Ralor thus in turn walked to both Ginji and Kingril and greeted them. Ginji with a punch to the stomach, Kingril with a chop to the shoulder. He smiled warmly at the French Merchant.

"Nice to see you again, Bijou!"

"It's good to see you too, Monsieur. I brought your favorite!"

"Cookies?"

"Double Fudge."

"Suh-WHEET!! Elisia, lunch time!"

"Finally," the Acolyte giggled. "I'm hungry."

"…Wait," Kingril wondered. "You know Ralor?"

"Well, not by his name, no. He never told me, but he's been a faithful customer. Oh!" she realized, turning back to the Swordsman. "I've got those Safety Boots you wanted. Discount, 10,000 zeni."

Ralor rolled his eyes. "Discount, huh? Oh, well," he chuckled. "Here you go. My boots and 1 Kay."

The Swordsman drew off his boots and tossed them at her. He drew out 1000 Zeni from his pocket and handed it to her. He would miss the soft fur, but the added protection would be useful. Especially around Caramels. Boy, he hated when they jumped on his feet.

He stood up, and walked back and forth in them. Pretty good, really.

"Excellent. These'll do great. Now then, about lunch. Two cookies apiece for me and Elisia here."

"Oui, monsieur."

Bijou drew out the pastries and handed them to her favorite customer.

"No way!" Jante gasped in overdramatic surprise. "You had THOSE, and you didn't SHARE?! How cruel!"

"Are you willing to pay, monsieur?"

"Well, no," the Thief admitted. "I was kinda hoping you'd be feeling generous."

"She's a Merchant," Kingril chuckled. "Besides, we managed, didn't we?"

"Cactus juice and desert meat are hardly what I'd call managing."

"Are you dying?"

"…No."

"Then stop whining."

Jante groaned and let his head rest against the soft grass of Payon. However, the caravan of Merchants was still moving. The Thief immediately threw himself to the side to avoid the feet of several hundred Merchants, Blacksmiths, and Alchemists.

Bijou giggled, and looked at Kingril.

"He gets into trouble fairly often, doesn't he?"

"Oh, yeah."

After that, there was a slightly awkward silence.

"Something going on between you two?" Ralor asked, looking at them.

"What? No!!" the both shouted simultaneously.

The Swordsman raised an eyebrow.

"Well, either way, I've got some _business _to take care of. I'll be back in a few minutes. Elisia, would you do me a favor and stay here?"

"Okay. Why?"

"Because, the kind of business I'm talking about doesn't exactly involve something I show off to the public at large."

"Oh," the Acolyte mumbled embarrassedly.

"Heya, Ginji. Take care of her, okay? Keep Jante from getting to close."

"No problem," the Gunslinger chuckled darkly, drawing out his engraved pistol.

With that, Ralor disappeared into the dense brush and foliage of the forest. He quickly found a spot, dug a hole, and proceeded to take care of his business.

He used the inside of his boot to cover the hole back up. Fertilizer for nature, he chuckled to himself. He decided to sit down at the base of a large tree, just to get a little shut-eye. More of a nap, really…

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that it was dusk, the lack of sunlight painting the trees odd colors. The second thing he noticed was the Taekwon Girl in his lap.


End file.
